


Blue Ties and Red Arrows

by DarcyDelaney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, College, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyDelaney/pseuds/DarcyDelaney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU! Dean and Cas are floor-mates who both find themselves sexiled from their dorm rooms. In an effort to pass the time, they go to a diner and act adorable together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N 1:** tumblr posts are inspiring me hardcore lately; this fic came after reading [this post](http://proudofus.tk/post/100014676794/oddly-specific-aus-i-need)!  
 **A/N 2:** the red arrow is a real diner! it's in manchester, new hampshire, and is super rad; i don't want people to think i'm making up its radness or something. also, they really do everything that's done in this story if it's your first time there.

* * *

 

"Oh, come on!"

Cas is jerked out of his book when he sees a boy down the hall press his forehead against the door to a room—presumably his own—before smacking his open palm against the wall.

"That's the third time this  _week_ , Mike, goddammit!"

Cas cranes his neck a little and notices the dark blue tie hanging off the door handle, and smirks.

"Jesus," the kid mumbles, slumping down to the floor, his back against the wall. He pulls out his phone, punches in a few numbers, then holds it to his ear.

"Bobby? Hey, it's Dean." He pauses. "No, I'm not trashed, asshole—I got sexiled." Pause. "Come on, Bobby! I just want to sleep, I swear." Pause. "Do you know what kind of shit's been done on common room couches? No fucking way, dude." One more pause, then a sigh. "Ugh, fine. See you tomorrow."

Cas turns his attention back to his book. He's just about absorbed into the story when the boy—Dean—breaks the silence in the hall again.

"You, too, huh?"

Cas looks up, a little confused. "Me, too?"

"Roommate kick you out? His dick more important than your comfort?"

"I…never thought of it that way, but yes, I guess so."

Cas can feel his cheeks start to redden as Dean laughs. He gets to his feet and before Cas can process the fact that this cute—no,  _beautiful_ —guy is walking toward him, he's looking down at a pair of muddy work boots, then up to a faded pair of jeans, at least three different layers of flannel, and finally into the greenest eyes he's ever seen.

"What's your name?" Dean asks. "Sorry, I zoned out during that 'get to know your floor' icebreaker shit from the first week."

"Cas."

Dean nods, as if in approval. "Nice to meet'cha, Cas, I'm Dean."

Cas gets to his feet (without any stumbling, he might add) and shakes Dean's proffered hand. "So," Cas says, "your roommate's already locked you out three times this week?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "And counting. It's only Thursday, dude. He's still got three more days." He glances at Cas' door, where his and Gabe's cheesy, RA-made name tags are still stuck to the door. It's October, so his and Gabe's names are scrawled inside a hastily-colored jack-o-lantern in an effort to be festive.

"Wait, is Gabe  _McConville_  your roommate?"

"Yes," Cas says uncertainly.  _Jesus, if Gabe fucks this up for him…_

Dean smirks. "Kid's in my Intro to Humanities class. Turner hates him, but he makes that fuckin' class bearable."

Cas nods, thinking of Gabe's apparently unending energy and—slightly immature, if Cas is being honest—sense of humor. "He's very funny."

Dean nods and glances down at his feet. 

Cas starts to panic at the silence.  _C'mon, Castiel, don't lose this now_ _…_

"Who's your roommate?"

Dean looks up again, and Cas isn't sure, but he thinks Dean's face might've flushed slightly beneath his freckles. "Oh, uh, Mike Milton. Know him?"

Cas shakes his head. 

"He's all right, little bit of a control freak, though."

"And he has sex a lot," Cas adds without thinking.  _What the hell was that, Castiel?_

Dean barks out another laugh. "Yeah, he has sex a lot, too." He runs a hand through his hair, then asks, "Hey, you eaten yet?"

Cas' brow furrows. "It's midnight."

"Shit, right." Dean smiles apologetically. "I eat pretty much all the time, so I kinda lose track of when meals should actually be. Like a hobbit or something."

"I mean, I could eat, though."

"Yeah?"

Cas nods. "For a fellow  _Lord of the Rings_ fan, yeah."

Dean grins, quickly glancing down at his boots. When he looks up, he's got a suggestion. "Red Arrow?"

"Red…what?"

Dean gapes at him. "Dude, are you telling me we've been at this school for a month and you haven't been to the Red Arrow yet?"

Cas wonders if he should make something up. Oh, the Red  _Arrow_ ; I thought you said the Red  _Arm_ _…Throw_. He mulls this over for a second, but before he can even think about lying, Dean grabs Cas' coat lying on the floor and shoves it into his hands. 

"It's a travesty, that's what this is," he says, zipping up his own coat. "Let's go, Cas. We're taking your Red Arrow virginity."

 

****

 

Neither of them have a car on campus ("Fuckin' $140 for a parking pass? Yeah, right, man," Dean says as reasoning for why he didn't get one), and the weather isn't bitingly cold yet, so they decide to trek through the fall New Hampshire night.

"What were you reading back in the dorm?" Dean asks.

  
_Should I change it? Will he think it's lame? Pull yourself together, Castiel, he probably hasn't even heard of it_.

"It's called  _The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay_ ," Cas finally says. "It's about these two cousins in New York City who try to break into the comic book industry."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Huh. How is it?"

"I like it." Cas loves it, all its sweeping sentences and page-long paragraphs and its ability to get him to inadvertently skip meals so he doesn't have to worry about eating alone and the fact that it makes being sexiled easier to bear, but he decides to keep all these parts out.

Dean nods. "I'm reading this book right now—well, it's just a short story, I guess—but it's called 'CivilWarLand in Bad Decline,' and it's so fuckin' cool. It's got ghosts and soldiers and gangs, and it's so weird, but so cool."

No one is more surprised than Cas when he realizes that he actually knows the story Dean is talking about. "That's by Saunders, right?"

"Yeah! You heard of him?"

"I have the whole book that that story is from," Cas says.  _Just do it, Castiel, just offer_. "You can borrow it, if you want."

Dean's eyes go bright in the darkness, and Cas' heart jumps a little. "That'd be awesome, dude. You're not reading it?"

Cas shakes his head. "I read it last year. It's really good. I'll drop it off once we're not…sexiled anymore."

Dean laughs again, and Cas decides that he'd like to spend most of this night trying to make Dean laugh as much as possible.

"What's your major?"

"Undecided," Dean says proudly. "I kinda like writing, but my dad wants me to do business. You?"

"English Lit."

"Explains how you know so much about books."

Cas flushes and hopes that Dean can't see. "I don't know that much."

Dean shrugs. "You know more than me."

"I'm sure you know a lot."

Dean laughs again, but this time it's uncomfortable, and Cas immediately regrets the comment, even though it was supposed to come across as a compliment.

"Tell that to my dad," he says softly.

"…I'm sorry," Cas starts, but Dean waves him off.

"What can you do," he says with a shrug, more to himself than to Cas. Cas decides it's probably best to switch topics.

 

****

 

As they walk, Cas learns more about Dean. He's from Kansas, and he's got a little brother named Sammy. His dad's a mechanic and used to be a Marine. He didn't mention anything about his mom, so Cas doesn't ask. He loves rock music, sci-fi, and comic books, which Cas is surprised by. He didn't take Dean as the kind of person to be into things that could've gotten him beat up in elementary school.

Cas watches as Dean shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets as the wind whips around them. His cheeks are flush with cold, and he sniffs every so often.

"I thought you said this place was close by," Cas says teasingly.

"It  _feels_ close," Dean insists, then adds, "If you have a car, I guess."

Cas grins. "Sure, Dean."

"It is! Listen, man, once we get there, you'll know this fuckin' walk was worth it, okay? I'll bet you a dollar."

"You're on," Cas says. But he doesn't need to bet on the walk being worth it; he knows that it already is.

 

****

 

The diner is lit up with a hazy red neon sign that spells out A-R-R-O-W vertically, and Dean's excitement is palpable as he holds the door open for Cas and allows him to walk through first. A caffeine-fueled waitress tells them to take a seat wherever, and Cas grabs them the last open booth.

Dean grabs a plastic-coated menu and tosses it to Cas. "This place is open 24 hours," Dean tells him, raising his voice to be heard above the chatter from other customers, the clinking and scraping of their silverware on plates. He cranes his neck to scan the specials board behind Cas. "It's usually packed on the weekends, but it's practically dead now."

Cas looks at Dean skeptically. "This is dead?" he asks, nodding toward the tiny diner that's packed with people, the only spots open being a few scattered stools at the counter.

"For the Red Arrow, it is." Dean grins.

Cas looks around at the walls, which are plastered with memorabilia—photos of famous people who've eaten there, newspaper articles, awards, autographs, and what look like entries for a kids' coloring contest. Each one is a print of a smiling mug, presumably the Red Arrow mascot. Dean points at one of the entries and says, "That one's mine," with a smirk.

A waitress with frizzy red hair comes up to their table, balancing two plates of breakfast food in the crook of her arm. "What'll ya have, boys?"

"Bacon cheeseburger and a Coke for me, please," Dean says, tucking the menu back behind the napkin dispenser.

"What about you, sweetheart?"

Cas scans the menu once more and orders the first thing his eyes land on for more than a second. "Mac and cheese. And a Diet Coke, please."

"You got it."

When Cas looks up, he catches Dean looking at him, but Dean averts his eyes right when he sees that Cas has seen him looking.

"What?" Cas says, grinning a little.

Dean smiles, but keeps his eyes on his lap for a few more seconds. "Just like your food style," he finally says.

"Who doesn't like macaroni and cheese?"

"Morons."

"Exactly."

The waitress returns to their table and sets their drinks down. Dean grabs his and jams a straw down into the liquid. 

"Thanks," he says.

"No problem, hun." She turns to leave when Dean grabs her attention.

"Uh, actually—" he holds up a finger and points it at Cas, "—this is his first time here."

The woman raises her eyebrows, giving Cas the same look Dean did back at the dorm, and Cas can feel himself start to blush again. "Is that so?"

Cas nods, feeling like he should apologize, but before he can, she saunters behind the counter, and all of a sudden, a giant bell clangs, and Cas jumps. 

"Everybody!" the waitress yells over the clamoring in the diner. "Everybody, we've got a Red Arrow Virgin here!" 

All the other patrons start hollering and clapping as she makes her way back to their table. She slaps a giant sticker on Cas' chest; Cas looks up at her, a little confused, and she winks before heading back to pick up some more food.

Cas looks down at the sticker and tries to read what it says without taking it off. When he does, he looks up at Dean, who's smiling wider than Cas has ever seen someone smile.

"'Red Arrow Virgin,'" he reads off the sticker, and Dean bursts into laughter. Normally, Cas would be mortified to have all that attention on him, regardless of how short a time it was, and he'd be so pissed at whoever caused the situation, but in Dean's case, all he can do is grin and sit back in his seat.

 

****

 

"Adam Sandler sat where you're sitting, y'know." Dean nods at Cas, taking a bite of his burger.

"You're lying."

"Swear to God. Look."

Cas turns around, and sure enough, a small brass plaque is emblazoned with "ADAM SANDLER SAT HERE" and then the date he visited.

"Are you sitting where anyone sat? John Belushi, maybe? Dana Carvey?"

"I could only be so lucky." Dean twists in his seat, then grimaces.

"Who?" Cas asks, his voice a little more excited than he intended.

"Nobody."

" _Who_?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Fuckin'…Guy Fieri."

It takes all Cas has not to spit his Diet Coke across the table and into Dean's face from laughing.

 

****

 

"So, Dean," Cas says slowly through a mouthful of some of the best mac and cheese he's ever tasted, "why'd you decide to go to school so far away from home?"

Dean dips a fry into his pile of ketchup and shrugs. "Change of scenery, I guess. I dunno. Guess I just like it up here."

"Does Sam miss you?"

Dean smiles without looking at Cas. "He won't admit it," he starts, "but yeah, I think so. Hell, I miss him."

"You should see if he can come up to visit you."

Dean barks out a laugh at the suggestion. "My dad would never go for that."

"Why not? I'm sure he'd like to see you, too."

"You don't know my dad, dude."

Cas opens his mouth, but can't think of a way to ask what he wants to know besides "Why doesn't your dad like you," and he figures that won't go over well, so he opts to stay silent instead.

Dean sighs. "It kind of bums me out to talk about it, and I'm basically the furthest thing from bummed now, so do you mind if we talk about it later?"

Cas shakes his head. Of course he doesn't mind if they talk about it later, which implies that Dean's not bored with him, fully intends to talk to him in the future, and might be willing to share something more personal with him, something he doesn't tell just anyone.

"Whatever you want," he says.

Dean gives him a small, tired smile before grabbing the menu again. "Y'know what this place has the best of?"

"Everything?" Cas asks, letting his fork drop into the empty bowl with a clatter.

" _Pie_."

 

****

 

They stay at the Red Arrow well into the morning; when they leave, Cas is squinting into the early morning sunlight and running his tongue over his now sugar-soaked teeth.

"We should've just had breakfast there, too," Dean says, and Cas can't tell if he's serious or not. 

They make their way back to campus in relative quiet. The world around them is still asleep for the most part, and it feels weird to break that silence with talk or laughter. Once the sign for their college comes into view, it hits Cas how tired he actually is, and he glances at his phone.

Dean looks at him, and Cas says, "6:15."

"Shit," Dean says, running a hand through his hair. "I have an 8am."

Cas immediately feels a pang of guilt; he didn't mean to make Dean stay up all night, and he's suddenly irrationally afraid that Dean won't want to hang out with him anymore for fear of this lack of sleep becoming a regular thing.

  
_Goddamn it, Castiel_ _…_

"I'm sorry, I—"

Dean interrupts him with a laugh and a wave of his hand. "Dude, no," he says. "This is what college is for, right? It'll be fine." He taps his ID card against the pad bolted next to the door to let them into their dorm—Cas can't help but notice that Dean holds the door open for him again—and gives him a small smile. "Plus, hey, I had fun."

"Me, too." Cas smiles. "Thank you for making me…not a Red Arrow virgin anymore." He taps the sticker that's still on his sweater, and Dean laughs.

"My pleasure." Dean glances at his door, which is slightly ajar. "Well, I'm guessing that means they're done." He looks back at Cas, and Cas doesn't want to flatter himself, but he thinks Dean's eyes are showing a mix of hope and nervousness—and Cas has never made anyone nervous. "See you later, then?"

Cas smiles and nods. "I hope so."

Dean grins, and all the nerves that Cas just saw evaporate almost instantly. "See ya," he says softly before slipping into his room.

 

****

 

The next morning, Cas grabs his copy of  _CivilWarLand in Bad Decline_  to drop off in Dean's room. It's only 9:00, Dean would still be in his 8am, so Cas leaves it with Mike. He walks back to his room, still riding the ends of the emotional high he got last night, when he sees a note on his and Gabe's door that he didn't notice when he left. It's taped under his name tag, and written on a jagged piece of lined paper, as if someone hastily ripped it out of their notebook. 

 

"You forgot something.

785-555-6037

-Dean"


	2. Epilogue: Enjoy the Silence

**a/n:** ahhh you guys! thank you all so much for reading the first bit and leaving kudos *hugs hugs so many hugs* i wasn't expecting this to be more than a one-shot, but i didn't realize how many people would dig the first story, and i kind of love this verse a little too much, so here, have an epilogue :D

* * *

 

The incessant pounding on Cas’ door doesn’t stop, no matter how much Cas tries to ignore it, and he finally rolls over to answer. He grits his teeth as his bare feet touch down on the cold tile floor, and as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, he swears he’s going to make Gabe pay for constantly forgetting his room key.

“Gabe, seriously, this is getting rid—oh.”

Dean is standing in the doorway, a cup in each hand and a bunch of blankets tucked under his arm, and suddenly Cas feels super self-conscious and exposed in his pajama pants and old T-shirt.

“Sleep,” Dean says, his cheeks flushing slightly, “right. Sorry.”

Cas rubs one eye and waves Dean off. “I wasn’t asleep yet. It’s fine.” He nods toward Dean’s gear. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I…well, I was gonna go down to the beach and see the meteor shower, and…if you…?” He trails off, but holds up one of the cups and smiles sheepishly.

Cas grins in spite of himself and nods. “Yeah, okay. Give me ten minutes.”

Dean’s face brightens as he hands Cas a cup. “Awesome.”

Cas takes it and watches Dean head back down to the hall toward his and Mike’s room. He brings the cup to his nose and takes a quick sniff—hot chocolate. He allows himself a small smile at the fact that Dean remembered he doesn’t like coffee.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a week since Dean left his number taped to Cas’ door, and since then, Cas hasn’t gone a day without seeing him. Whether it’s inviting him to grab dinner at the DH or giving him updates on his _CivilWarLand_ reading—“He cut the kid’s fucking _hand_ off? Are you fucking kidding me?”—Cas didn’t realize how much he was missing out on by not knowing Dean.

He changes quickly, pulls on his coat, and adds his scarf, gloves, and hat as he walks down the hall. The door to Dean’s room is open, and Dean is sprawled on his stomach on his bed, typing something furiously on his laptop. Cas knocks and Dean’s head immediately jerks up. He takes in Cas’ bundled figure and smirks.

“’S’not _that_ cold outside, is it?” he asks, getting to his feet and pulling on his own jacket, which is thin enough that Cas would still wear it with layers even on a sixty degree day.

“Talk to me in half an hour, Kansas.”

Dean grins as he looks down to lace his boots. “Fuck you.”

“Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

“Sure.” Dean grabs his own cup and the blankets from earlier. “Hope it’s still…hot.”

“When did you get it?”

Dean pauses and looks up at the water-damaged ceiling tiles as he locks his door. “Eh, half hour ago.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I like _lukewarm_ chocolate, thank you very much. Not getting my mouth burned to hell is a hobby of mine that I take great pride in.”

The late autumn wind hits Cas like a punch to the face when they exit the dorm, and he’s convinced he can see Dean shiver. They make the trek across campus to the beach—which is actually just the soccer field; people tan there and play volleyball in nicer weather, hence its nickname—in silence, following the other clusters of people. Cas feels his stomach start to twist; he’s never felt this nervous around Dean, like Dean’s expecting something from him. Which is stupid, because Dean isn’t even _looking_ at him right now, and even if he did want something, he’d be the first to let Cas know. He’s…outspoken that way. Scattered branches snap under their feet, and Cas can’t see where they’re going very well because all the lights have been turned off for the shower, and he accidentally starts walking sideways a little and then—

“Shit, sorry,” Cas mutters as he bumps into Dean, almost knocking his cup out of his hand.

“How _dare_ you?” Dean splays a hand against his own chest, feigning offense. Cas is suddenly glad for the darkness they find themselves in so that Dean can’t see him blush.

 

* * *

 

The soccer field is about three-quarters full by the time they arrive, so Dean is quick to plop down their blankets and stake them out a place. Cas has always hated the soccer field ever since orientation because of its fake, scratchy plastic grass and the stupid little bits of rubber that always end up in his socks weeks after he thought he’d seen the last of them, so he appreciates it when Dean adds that he made sure none of “those little fuckin’ black bits” have snuck their way onto the blankets.

“Cold yet?” Cas asks, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“You wish.” Dean smirks and tries to act cocky, but Cas doesn’t miss him dig his hands into his pockets a little deeper, the bright red tinge of the tops of his ears, the tip of his nose.

Cas grins and sets his cup down before leaning back on his hands. “How’s that history paper you were telling me about?”

Dean groans. “Ugh, _fuck me_ , dude. I’ve got like, two sentences. Still. I mean, I wasn’t stupid; you hear a history class is about fuckin’ _Vikings_ , you wanna take that class, right?” Cas nods, and Dean shakes his head sadly. “Wrong. So fucking wrong. I feel so betrayed.”

Cas laughs, and Dean smacks his thigh lightly. “What the hell, Cas? Laughing at my pain?”

“Sorry,” Cas says, grinning. “Maybe the writing center could help you.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a silence, but amazingly enough, it’s not awkward. Cas is reminded of a line from _Pulp Fiction_ , a movie Dean was appalled that Cas hadn’t seen and forced him to watch within minutes of Cas’ admission. _Don’t you hate that? Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable? That’s when you know you’ve found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence._

A few moments later, someone squeals from across the beach that they saw something shoot across the sky. Cas and Dean look up immediately, and their faces are lit up as the shower begins. Streaks of white light flash across the inky blackness of the sky, and Cas knows right then that this is _way_ better than sleep.

“S-s-so f-fuckin’ cool,” Dean stammers. Cas looks at him and notices that he’s shivering.

“Hey, take this.” Cas pulls off his hat and holds it out to Dean.

Dean looks down at it, but shakes his head. “’S-s okay, Cas.”

“Dean.” Cas jerks the hat in his hand insistently. “C’mon, you’re freezing.”

“T-t-then you’ll be cold.”

Cas stares at him. “Seriously, Dean. I’ve got so many layers on, I’m actually a little warm.”

It’s a total lie, of course, but Dean doesn’t need to know that.

Dean shakes his head again and looks down at the blanket. “I’m fine.”

Cas scoots himself closer to Dean and uses his fingers to stretch the hat open so he can place it over Dean’s head himself. “Dean, you’re gonna get hypotherm—”

Cas’ eyes widen as he’s cut off by Dean’s lips pressing against his own. He’s so surprised at first that he doesn’t return the kiss, and Dean pulls back, his cheeks red, eyes averted. Cas’ hat is sitting askew on his head.

“Shit,” he breathes. “Fuck. ’m sorry, Cas, I don’t kn—”

Cas leans forward; it’s a little late, but he returns Dean’s kiss, and his heart surges when he feels Dean kiss him back. A few seconds pass and they pull apart, Cas’ hands cupped around Dean’s frigid cheeks.

“Sorry I was late,” Cas says softly.

Dean smiles and kisses Cas one more time. He holds his hand out, palm up, looking through his eyelashes at Cas. Cas adjusts the hat so that it’s snug over Dean’s ears, then entwines his fingers with Dean’s. Dean smiles at him once more before turning his attention back up to the sky.

Cas looks over at Dean and silently thanks whatever or whoever’s up there that he’s found someone with whom he can just comfortably enjoy the silence.


End file.
